


A Potato By Any Other Name

by maiNuoire



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Gift Giving, Insecure Stiles Stilinski, M/M, Potatoes, Romantic Derek Hale, Wooing, potatoes are better than roses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-03
Updated: 2017-08-03
Packaged: 2018-12-10 16:19:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11695359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maiNuoire/pseuds/maiNuoire
Summary: Derek is an excellent gift-giver, but Stiles has a hard time taking the romantic gestures as an honest declaration of abiding love. Eventually, he realizes he's being a terrible boyfriend and gets with the program by giving Derek a rather non-traditional gift of his own.





	A Potato By Any Other Name

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to my wonderful SWN Chat Group and to my dear @rhysiana for the genius title!
> 
> Inspired by http://imgur.com/thX8V which I originally heard several years ago and has stuck with me. My husband and I occasionally gift each other potatoes, because we're sappy like that.
> 
> Your kudos and comments keep me going!

The flowers are beautiful. A perfect balance of deep purple heliotropes and white lilies. They even came in a glass vase, simple but elegant. The note is equally simple and sweet:  _ Thinking of you, as always. Love, Derek.  _

 

Stiles sighs as he places the flowers on his kitchen table, they look a little bit ridiculous on the aged, slightly worn surface, but he smiles at them nonetheless. 

 

It's a nice gesture, but he's not sure he's ready to believe they mean what he wants them to mean. 

 

The phone call is unsurprising, but not unwanted. “Hey, Der,” Stiles answers with fond exasperation, “You have impeccable timing.”

 

Derek chuckles lightly and asks “Did you uh, do you like them?” He sounds so  _ hopeful _ that Stiles knows even if he was allergic, he'd say “yes” and keep them on his table until they dried out and fell apart. 

 

“They're beautiful, thank you,” Stiles answers sincerely. He can feel the way his grin goes soft, melting into the private smile that only Derek can tease out of him. He knows Derek can hear it in his voice, can tell from the way he inhales a quiet sigh that makes Stiles’ heart swell. 

 

Stiles knows that Derek is going to say something that Stiles has no good reply to, going to ask if Stiles is ready to accept that Derek's invested in a future for them. But the truth is he just isn't; he can't quite convince himself that it's possible that Derek is going to stick around for him, not forever. 

 

So before Derek can ask, Stiles launches into planning their weekly dinner with his dad the following night. 

 

*****

 

The chocolates come three days later. They’re Stiles’ favorite dark chocolate assortment, and they’re delicious. The note is just as sweet:  _ Stiles, I saw these and thought of you. Love, Derek. _

 

When Stiles brings the last of the box to pack night, he pretends that everyone’s chocolate-induced excitement distracts him from how Derek’s face falls.

 

When Derek pulls him aside later, questions written all over his face, Stiles stops them from spilling from Derek’s lips by pressing his own against them. He tries to say everything he wants to with gentle sweeps of his tongue and hands that hold on a little too tightly. 

 

*****

 

When the box of comic books and assorted superhero things arrives, Stiles laughs out loud into his empty living room and calls Derek.

 

Derek answers the phone with a wary “Stiles,” and Stiles feels like the worst boyfriend in the world.

 

“I got the box, and I love it. Thank you so much!” Stiles replies, a little overly cheerful, but still genuine and honest. He’s a lucky man, and most days he thinks he doesn’t deserve Derek. Which is basically the problem, when it comes down to it. Derek has been trying to convince Stiles that their relationship is what he really wants, and Stiles has been keeping him at arm’s length, too caught up in the remnants of his teenaged self doubt to... see what was right in front of him.

 

Shit. He  _ is  _ the worst boyfriend in the world.

 

Derek is in the middle of “I’m so glad! I think I got all your favorites-” when Stiles interrupts with a half-shouted and mildly frantic “ _ Come over tonight! _ ”

 

There’s a brief pause, before Derek drawls out an elongated “Okay?”

 

“I have something to give you,” Stiles insists, suddenly overwhelmed with the need to see Derek. To talk to Derek and apologize. To look him in the eye and make him understand that he is everything that Stiles wants, and that he’s ready to stop being such an asshole, if Derek will just forgive him.

 

“Stiles,” Derek admonishes lightly, “You don’t have to get me things just beca-”

 

“Yes,  _ Derek, _ ” Stiles retorts, “I really need to give you this. Like, really really. So just come over, okay? Please?”

 

Derek sighs and Stiles knows he’s won. He grins at Derek’s put upon “Sure, babe. See you in an hour.”

 

“See you soon, Der-Bear!” Stiles teases, adding an earnest-bordering-on-wistful “Love you,” and hanging up before Derek can react to the declaration, and before he can feel badly about how infrequently he says it to Derek.

 

*****

 

Derek arrives thirty-seven minutes later, somehow slightly breathless when Stiles answers the door with a nervous smile.

 

They exchange hellos and stare at each other for a long moment. Derek steps forward, moving in for a kiss, and though Stiles wants to let it go on, he keeps it brief, pushing Derek away gently. When Derek looks confused, Stiles smooths the frown from his brow and smiles.

 

Stiles takes Derek’s hands in his own and says quietly, “I want to give you your present first. Please?”

 

“Okay, Stiles. Whatever you want,” Derek replies patiently.

 

Stiles leads Derek to the well-loved couch in his living room. They sit close together, facing the coffee table that mostly doubles as an ottoman where a small, plain box sits. Stiles takes a deep breath before picking it up and turning to face Derek, crossing one leg over the other and leaning slightly forward. Derek mirrors him and waits quietly; Stiles has never been so grateful for Derek’s silence.

 

Stiles fidgets with the box for a moment, and Derek places a hand on his bouncing knee. It calms him instantly and he looks up at Derek to find him looking back at him with a  barely-there smile and a face full of fondness.

 

With a fortifying breath, Stiles presents Derek with the box. In typical Derek fashion, he takes his time. He shakes the box near his ear with an exaggerated look of concentration. Stiles’ eye roll doesn’t have the desired hastening effect, so instead he blurts out “Just open it already!”

 

Derek laughs, but opens it nonetheless. He pulls out a small, brown potato, about the size of his palm, and looks at Stiles with an incredulous and  _ incredibly confused _ pout.

 

“You got me a potato,” Derek says in that way he has where a question is more of a statement, and he sounds on the edge of disappointment. 

 

Stiles panics a little, so he sounds more than a little desperate and a fair bit manic when he grabs Derek's hand--the one still holding the potato aloft--in both of his and all but yells “Let me explain!”

 

Derek’s mouth curves ever so slightly upward, and he lets out a deep sigh that sounds like a muffled chuckle. “Always,” he says simply, and Stiles lets it be the reassurance that he needs it to be. 

 

“Since we started being a  _ we _ ,” Stiles begins, allowing Derek to pry his hands away from where they're still clasped around his own and thread their potato-less fingers together, “I've been waiting for it to stop.” Derek makes a face that looks like something precious about to crumble, and Stiles’ heart clenches. He squeezes Derek’s hand so he can't pull away, and rushes to continue. 

 

“I was halfway in love with you for so long before we had even gone on our first official date, and back then I was mostly certain that I was having some kind of weird hallucination, because--well, it's our lives and that sort of thing happens--but mostly it was because I couldn't believe that you’d even looked twice at me, never mind that you could look at me and see someone worth your time.” Stiles is dizzy from the rush of the confession, can't seem to stop the words now that he's started, so he doesn't try. He looks Derek in the eyes and hopes all the love he has and all the things he doesn't have the words for are being broadcast on his face. 

 

“Derek, you have been...You send me flowers, and the shitty little voice of the kid I was when we met, that insecure twit, says  _ “As long as you're pretty, he'll stick around, but it's temporary. It'll wither and fall apart before you know it.”  _ And I know, I _ know _ , that when you sent them, what you were saying was  _ I love you _ , that you wanted me to have something beautiful. And I looked up heliotropes and white lilies, okay? Devotion and love, respectively. You're so good with feelings now, you even let your flowers talk about them!”

 

Derek blushes slightly at that and Stiles is almost overwhelmed with how much he loves the man. He raises their still joined hands and kisses Derek's knuckles before continuing. 

 

“You got me my favorite chocolates, and I know it meant  _ I'm thinking of you, and I know these make you happy _ , but that freaking voice says  _ “Once his craving is sated, you'll be left holding an empty box,”  _ and I panicked. I've been such an asshole, Der. I'm so-”

 

Derek interrupts with a now potato-free hand cupping Stiles’ cheek, and a reverent and mildly exasperated “Stiles,” but aside from leaning into the touch, Stiles doesn't let him continue. 

 

“You got me a whole box of things that shouted  _ I listen when you talk, and I understand why you care about the things you do, and I want to be the reason that you smile. _ And holy crap, babe, that is everything I've ever wanted-- _ needed _ \--in a partner. But insecurity is louder sometimes and it says “ _ You're an idiot who likes science fiction and things meant for children, who could ever love you?” _ So. I've kept you at a distance, and I'm finally ready to tell that fucker to shut up. So,” Stiles takes a deep breath and picks up the potato from where it rests in the place where their legs are parallel and pressed together, holding it up as if presenting a precious gem. He presses on, pretending to ignore the look of awe and protest on Derek's face. 

 

“So I got you a potato. Because a potato will only grow  _ more potatoes _ , even if it's left in the dark a little while. And even  _ I love you _ candy that tastes like literal angels made them especially for me are only empty calories. But a potato can feed you and fill you up and it can do it countless ways. I got you a potato, because even when it's wrinkled and old and ugly, a potato can still do those things! It can still be made into a battery to give power as well as strength.” Stiles leans forward until his forehead is resting on Derek's and watches as a few fat tears fall onto the leg of his jeans, darkening the material.

 

“You do all of that for me, Derek Hale. You give me so much, and I want us to have a potato kind of love, okay?” His voice breaks a little around the quiet declaration, and he takes a moment to breathe into the space between them, taking in the way Derek's thumb traces over the back of his hand, the way Derek's breath is heavier than usual, an occasional sniffle giving away the impact of Stiles’ rambling confession. “I love you, Derek. So much. And I'd like to spend a lot of years proving it.”

 

Derek barks out a delighted but short laugh and Stiles pulls away to look at him; his smile is the most beautiful thing Stiles has ever seen. Derek kisses him then, it's a determined, gentle press of their lips that ends with a sigh and Derek's “I love you, too.”

 

Stiles lets a grin overtake his face and teases “We can grow potatoes!”

 

Derek rolls his eyes and looks pointedly at Stiles’ hand, where he is still fiddling with the potato. Derek arches one impressive eyebrow at Stiles when he tilts his head curiously. Derek kisses him again and nuzzles at Stiles’ neck when he pulls away. “Stiles?” Derek whispers into Stiles’ ear, letting his beard drag enticingly against the sensitive skin. When Stiles responds with a questioning hum, he adds “Give me my potato back.”

  
Stiles moves away abruptly, laughing. “Here you go, Big Guy,” he says accepting an enthusiastic kiss as thanks when he passes the spud to Derek. He catches a wistful look flash across Derek's face when he's looks at the potato and places it gingerly back into the box and he can't help but mutter a triumphant “We are  _ so _ growing potatoes.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk about stuff with me on [tumblr!](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/poetry-protest-pornography)  
> 


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